


In My Home

by marvelandimagine



Category: Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, For Science!, Friends to Lovers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:26:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23636785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelandimagine/pseuds/marvelandimagine
Summary: After Wakanda opens its borders, you begin working in Shuri’s lab as part of an all-women STEM program, and you meet a certain White Wolf. What starts out as mutual bonding over science turns into much more than you ever could have anticipated.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

“Please, you powerful little receptor, I am BEGGING you to bind with this epinephrine, BEGGING YOU.”

You cross your fingers and peer into the microscope, only to be met with what feels like the 100th disappointment this week. No positive binding. No responsiveness. Nothing.

Your foot connects with the side of your lab table, increasingly faster with every syllable you yell, causing Francesca, the new program recruit from Spain, to quickly inch her chair away from your adjacent work station.

“GOD DAMMIT YOU MOTHERFU—“

“Good results?”

You halt mid kick and turn to face Shuri, her eyes lit up in amusement as she surveys you over the rim of her Starbucks frappucino with a loud slurp––they’ve been her new obsession ever since Wakanda opened the borders and built one two blocks from her lab. As much as you’ve grown to bond with her in the time since she invited you to work in Wakanda as part of her new all-women biotech research program, in this moment, you have to truly fight back the urge to slap the drink out of her hand.

You collapse into a desk chair, trying your best to joke as usual with your new friend but find your words coming out gritted anyways:

“What, no coffee for me?”

As if on cue, three handmaidens appear holding recyclable trays of various caffeinated beverages for the team, who cheer and abandon their current projects for a moment to collect their drinks in a flurry of movement.

One of the handmaiden approaches and you sheepishly accept your cold brew, grimacing at Shuri in a way that you hope reads, “Sorry, I’m an asshole.”

Shuri snorts and rolls her eyes, but her tone is light:

“Colonizers. Always so impatient.”

She nods over to your desk.

“And not just with Starbucks orders.”

You let out a frustrated exhale.

“Shuri, I’ve been here for two months. I have the most advanced resources and tech on the planet at my fingertips, and yet I still have nothing concrete to show for it––nothing to show you for it.”

Your tone gets quieter but maintains its intensity.

“Look, you brought me here because I know you know that, if I can get this, we can change lives everywhere––and not just soldiers, but anyone trying to work through PTSD or severe trauma. Being able to de-intensify the physiological response to triggers to shorten dissociative periods or even get rid of them so we can get a stronger sense of normalcy back, to lessen that fear and strain even a little – that’s worth the long haul, I know it’s a long haul, one that’s worth the setbacks and sleep deprivation and madness because that’s science and I love it, but, I don’t know.”

You sigh before taking a sip of your coffee.

“I just thought I’d be farther along, that’s all.”

Shuri grabs a chair and wheels it to face you.

“Do you know how many trials it took before I got the nanotech working seamlessly in brother’s suit?”

“Knowing you, probably three.”

“Four, actually.”

You groan and cover your eyes but Shuri drags your hands away from your face, clasping them in her own.

“Let me finish! Do you know how many trials it took for me to get the remote access functioning in the Kimoyo Beads?”

“More than four?”

“759 to be exact, and they still have much room to improve. My point, Y/N is to not be discouraged.”

She looks at you seriously.

“I would not have brought you here if your body of work was not excellent. The work we’re all doing” — she turns and gestures around the room of women who have all returned to their respective stations, coffees in hand and intently focused on various glowing blue projections of statistics and diagrams hanging in the air, the sound of rapid keystrokes and odd hisses and bangs echoing around the room. “we can only know so much until we know more, yes?”

As if on cue, you feel a rush of heat move past you as Francesca hurls the flaming, mangled remains of what looks like a helmet into the sink, flinging on the spray faucet and wiping her brow as her ruined demo piece hisses with smoking finality.

You turn back to face Shuri.

“Point taken.”

You rest your chin on one hand, shaking your head slightly.

“Why are you so wise?? You’re 13 years younger than I am and dropping some real life truths.”

“The real life truth is that I think you need a break.”

You laugh and take another sip of your coffee.

“I can’t say I disagree with you.”

Shuri grins, her eyes lighting up with mischief.

“You know who else needs some fun in their life?”

“Who?”

“Bucky!”

You swear internally as your heartbeat immediately quickens at the sound of his name, averting your eyes as you spin your chair away from Shuri, but she scoots herself closer.

“I’m sure he would loooove to spend a whole day with his favorite scientist.” Her grin widens. “And I’m sure you would loooove to spend a whole day with your White Wolf.”

You roll your eyes, trying to stop yourself from smiling and failing miserably, which only seems to delight Shuri more as you shake your head with a half-assed:

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. We’re friends.”

“More than friends!” Shuri yells, poking your shoulder in quick succession. “You do not look at friends the way you look at each other! I took that broken white boy all over the city, show him my lab, and he says maybe three sentences—to me, the girl who saved his brain —but for some reason, he has no problem asking the American a million questions about science and tech and how her work is coming.”

You feign as much nonchalance as you can in your response, but you can’t help how light your chest feels at her acknowledging Bucky’s supposed eagerness to talk to you.

“You said it, we’re both American, maybe he just feels more comfortable–”

“Comfortable enough to spend hours sitting with you while you work, hmm? And you, letting him, you, the same woman whose shouting made W’Kapi look like an antelope in headlights when he came for my tech upgrade and got too close to your samples!

“Hey, I apologized, but I was not about to redraw 10 vials of my blood that got contaminated all because some border security chief decided -”

Shuri presses on.

“The first time I saw Bucky smile was when he was with you, and you two go on walks and eat lunch together,” Shuri crosses her arms with a broad grin as she delivers her final piece of what she evidently deems as damning evidence, “and I know you are the only person besides me and brother who has gone out to see him.”

You open your mouth and close it, your brain firing on all cylinders to come up with some kind of argument, any kind of argument, to deflect away from your relationship with Bucky. Because thinking about it, talking about it, made the way you felt whenever you were together that much harder to try to ignore.

But you’ve got nothing because, while you can’t speak for him, you know Shuri’s right. You don’t just like him as a friend. You like him way more than that, want him way more than that. But you aren’t sure you’re ready to deal with all of that.

You didn’t anticipate catching feelings – you didn’t even anticipate meeting this quiet, attractive stranger. It was a few months earlier, only a few weeks into your stay in Wakanda. The combination of excitement and anxiety and the time change had meant you weren’t sleeping much, so you went into the lab early to get some work done. You were in the zone — with the lab all to yourself, you were able to comfortably spread out your work across tables and even onto the floor, blaring your “productive playlist” at full volume as you ran through your latest brain scan videos and blood samples.

Your phone pinged and you checked it to find a message from Shuri:

“Gonna be in late – Bucky is supposed to be in at 6:30 for his scan, so just tell him I’m behind.”

Shuri had briefly explained the situation with Bucky to you last week, and while you found yourself being fascinated by the logistics of how Shuri deprogrammed decades worth of conditioning, you also felt an overwhelming sense of sadness and empathy for what he had been through. When Shuri suggested bringing him as a data sample and to see if he’d consent to participate when your clinical trial took off, your head instinctively agreed, but your heart won out, telling her that you still weren’t close to a full-fledged medication, and, besides, you thought the guy had been treated as an experiment for so long—you didn’t want to add to that, not when, based on what Shuri said, he was finally in a semi-stable place to heal.

You were still definitely curious to meet him, though, so you texted back an “ok” but found it odd that she didn’t just tell him herself. The thought faded, though, as you quickly became absorbed back into your work.

You didn’t even realize the time that had passed until you heard the gentle woosh of the lab doors sliding open, barely audible over the growling, fast-riffed Rise Against track that was currently playing:

“Do you still believe in all the things that you stood by before?

Are you out there on the front lines or at home keeping score?”

Would you care to be the layer of the bricks that seal your fate,

or would you rather be the architect of what we might create?”

Bucky didn’t see you at first, but you saw him. Even just from his side profile — his hair, his beard, the muscle clearly prominent even underneath his dark clothes — you thought he was gorgeous.

You did your best to keep your cool, though, as you walked out from behind your lab table in the back corner, turning off the music with two taps of your fingers in the air.

“Hi, Bucky?”

He whips around to face you, and your initial impression attraction to him was only heightened as you were met with a pair of brilliant blue eyes, but you were also thrown by the panic you see in them, how fast his posture shifts to defensive.

You held up your hands.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you — I work here.” You gestured to the back corner of the lab, his eyes following.

“I’m Y/N, Shuri’s latest recruit. She told me to tell you she’s gonna be late for your scan.” You smiled, hoping it would ease his tension, and it seemed to work because he unclenched his fist. “You can hang out wherever, and don’t worry about bothering me— as you can tell by the sound from when you walked in, I thrive in chaos.”

He just stared blankly at you, seemingly uncertain of how to respond.

Uncomfortable in the silence, you turned away to go back to your corner, but stopped as he asked quietly, but with genuine curiosity:

“What are you working on?”

You looked back and he actually gave you a small smile, and you were surprised to find your cheeks warming up.

Your panic about feeling all kinds of things over a solitary smile must have read on your face, but Bucky misinterpreted it as reluctance, and so he quickly backtracked:

“You probably get asked that all the time, I’m sorry, I don’t want to distract you.” He averted his eyes and your brain finally caught back up to speed.

“What? No, it’s totally fine!” You sat down at your desk, wheeling over another chair. “C’mere. I’ll show you.”

And that’s how it started. For whatever reason, as you went on and on in excitement about your project, about how you collected 500 data samples back home, about how you were now working with binary augmented retro framing, Bucky got more and more relaxed around you, asking questions and laughing at some of your jokes. And you felt more and more relaxed with him, falling into a rhythm that felt both comfortable and utterly exhilarating. You were pleasantly surprised by his sense of dry humor that matched his own, and any man who openly admired your work got an automatic extra few points in your book.

And when Bucky paused and asked why you were doing all this work on PTSD, you still felt somehow just as comfortable as you were joking around with him as you were then candidly sharing about some of the things that happened to you. You were normally pretty open about the trauma in your story, but you were usually pretty brief, even in the support group you went to. But here, with him, captivated by this newfound connection you felt, it was easy to not just share, but to truly open up, and not just about what happened, but what you had been doing to try to heal and move forward. And you were floored when he reciprocated—Shuri told you he was pretty shy, but here he was, telling you some of things that kept him up at night, about how he felt like, even with Shuri’s work, what he had been through still felt like it was always pressing on him, like it would always be engraved into his bones.

You hadn’t even realized that an hour had passed by the time Shuri came into the lab, apologizing for being late but saying she was glad you two had finally been introduced.

“So am I,” Bucky had murmured quietly to you, and you smiled in a daze and nodded in agreement, trying to still maintain your composure because what in the fuck was happening here between you two already, this felt like it could be something, even though you had no intention of looking for something when he walked into the lab. It was dizzying and overwhelming but it lit you up from the inside out, beaming back at him as he asked if he could come back to see you—see your work, as he adjusted quickly, and so you gave him your number and said he was welcome to come up anytime.

And he did. And you weren’t an idiot, you had a pretty good sense of when a man was interested in you, and it certainly felt like that as you kept spending more and more time together – the way he looked at you sometimes made you feel like passing out and grabbing his face to make out at the same time. But still, there was that hesitation, the uncertainty and anxiety – what if you were wrong? What if he genuinely just appreciated your company, liked having someone who had been through similar shit to talk to? What if that was it and nothing more?

All of this runs through your head as you sit there, and you realize there’s it’s pointless to try to refute a fact backed by evidence. You liked him. You really, really liked him. And if there was a chance he felt the same, if an objective third party like Shuri even sensed something romantic between you two—maybe it was time to stop hiding behind your fear.

“I –” You run your hands down your face, knowing you’re going to feel both defeated and liberated by your admission, “fuck it, yeah, ok you win. I like Bucky.” You sigh, the words rolling off your tongue seeming to solidify how you felt inside, making it even more irrefutable. “Goddammit.”

Shuri throws her fist in the air.

“HA! You admit it, more than friends!”

“Shhh, Jesus, I can’t speak for him, but yeah, maybe, I don’t know, just keep your voice down!” you hiss, pushing your palms toward the floor as you crane your neck to see if anyone is paying attention, but they’re all too absorbed in their own work.

“Not maybe, definitely!” Shuri grins, resting her chin on her hands. “So, take the day off, go spend it with him. I’m sure one of you will crack and finally break the sexual tension.”

You groan and cover your eyes, shaking your head. “Oh my god, we’re not having this conversation.”

You look up, your anxiety getting the best of you.

“But I don’t even know what we should do for the rest of the day.”

“Ah, but I do! You should go to echibi elikhulu – the great lake. Baba used to take mother all the time when they were younger.”

You frown, confused.

“Where is there a lake in Wakanda?”

Shuri chuckles.

“Well, technically, there isn’t one – not on any map, anyways. Just because we opened the borders doesn’t mean we gave away all of our hidden treasures to the rest of the world.” She smiles, clasping your hands, “But I will certainly tell you about it in the name of true love! Only if, and I mean, if, you tell me EVERYTHING that happens.”

You laugh and shake her hands emphatically, touched by her willingness to share this piece of her home with you, with Bucky.

“Deal.”

You still feel nervous, but it’s mostly excitement now as you think about not only getting to enjoy the beach, but to be able to stop dancing around your feelings for Bucky – if you had the courage to finally admit it to him, and he reciprocated, it would absolutely be worth the time away in the lab.

Shuri jumps up from her chair. “Then no time to waste! You can take my Jeep, I’ll program the GPS to get you there and back.” Her tone changes suddenly to businesslike. “You go home, shower, change, and get your things ready, and I’ll meet you outside in 45 minutes.”

You tilt your head to the side slightly, trying to work out the final aspectt hat’s puzzling you.

“Why do you care so much about us getting together?” You pause, quickly adding,” And I don’t mean that to sound shitty, I’m just curious.”

“Y/N, when I know something can be improved, I want to help. You both have suffered, and you each seem to find peace in each other – you’re good for each other. I think you’d be happier together and could even heal better together then just as ‘friends.’” She smiles, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “And, also, then I could say I set up the cutest colonizer couple in the country.”

You smile back. “I appreciate it.” Your tone softens. “Really, I do. Thanks for the push.”

“You’re most welcome. Now go! I’ll see you in a bit.”

You quickly grab your backpack from your lab table, shoving in notebooks and folders before you swipe your coffee of the counter, give Shuri a wave, and power walk out the door.

You laugh out loud at the absurdity of it, how agitated you were this morning compared to how you were nearly bouncing down the street in anticipation now, the prospect of exploring a new and beautiful place with Bucky and finally telling him how you felt buoying in your chest.

You felt determined, you felt like you might throw up, but above every emotion and thought racing around inside you, you felt hope.


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky can’t stop thinking about you. He knows he’s in deep because he finds himself replaying conversations and moments together with you over and over in his head, trying to engrave their details into his memory—the sound of your laugh, how you talk with your hands, the glint in your eyes he thinks he’s seen whenever the two of you end up physically close (which seems to be a lot lately)––that goddamn indecipherable look that’s driving him crazy as he mentally weighs the pros and cons of finally acting on what he desperately wants, to finally bring his lips to yours, to feel your body pressed against his while your tongue slips between his teeth and his hands tangle in your hair––

And he keeps trying his best to stop his imagination right there (often failing) because he’s not sure he can trust his mind on this. Because the thought that you could ever reciprocate, could even come close to feeling the way he feels about you, would ever want to be with him in any sense of really being with someone, that had to just be a dream.

But then his brain tugged at him to recall moments that had happened between the two of you that he was pretty damn sure he didn’t imagine. How welcoming you were when he first met you, how you were willing to open up to him about your past so that it might help him in his present. And when he found himself spilling his guts about his uncertainty regarding whether or not Shuri had really fixed him, not knowing what to do with the lingering anxiety and flashbacks and nightmares––you still didn’t treat him like a bomb that was about to go off. You just treated him like a human being.

And it wasn’t like he hadn’t experienced that since Steve snapped him out of his Hydra programming—a lot of people had been kind to him. And he’d done what Shuri asked and hit up a few veteran support group meetings in the city and even livestreamed a few in the States, so he had related to others with similar experiences before meeting you. He just couldn’t explain it, the connection he felt to you, like you both went through life following the same rhythm. As ridiculous and sentimental as it sounded in his head, it was like your souls seemed to be in sync.

You were funny and hopeful and kind and so, so pretty, even in a lab coat and faded band t-shirt. You drew him in without even trying, and the connection he felt with you––that he wondered, hoped, dreamed you could maybe even feel a fraction of––kept growing stronger the more time you spent together. He initially couldn’t even believe you wanted to spend time with him, but he slowly stopped questioning it and tried to just go with it without waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He just tried to enjoy being present with you, whether he was reading your loaned copy of Bill Nye’s Undeniable: Evolution and the Science of Creation while you whirled around the lab, or utterly absorbed in listening to you do your best to catch him up on a highlight reel of humanitarian achievements and pop culture while he told you about 1930s New York City and the inventions that blew his mind (he still was waiting for a flying car, but self-driving cars were still pretty damn impressive) over sambusa and the best lamb and rice dish he was sure he’d ever have, confiding and laughing and flirting all over the city.

He may not have been with a woman in literally decades, but that didn’t mean he didn’t notice signs of seeming attraction and affection, small actions and comments you dropped here and there that made his heart stop and start at the same time. What he did forget was how maddening it could be, the slow burn of glances and touches and before someone finally made a decisive move. Back before everything happened, he never had a problem making that move, but now, the fear of losing someone who already made him the happiest he’d been in years kept him rooted in place.

It was driving him crazy, especially when it came to hints in your touch: your hip gently nudging him to scooch farther down your lab table; your thigh grazing his as you sat side by side on the Maglev train; your palm swatting him on the shoulder as he made another comment that had you shaking your head but chuckling nonetheless. He savored each of these moments, no matter how seemingly insignificant, his longing for even further closeness with you becoming harder to ignore each time. So he experimented to see if maybe he really did have a shot at this, taking your hand in the middle of the crowded street, raising his voice so you could hear him over the chattering crowd and music echoing around the city:

“I’ll get lost otherwise.”

“You’re right,” you called back, smirking as your free hand gestured to the predominantly Wakandan crowd. “How would I ever find you amongst this sea of white men with bionic arms?”

You didn’t let go of his hand, though, and Bucky felt hope rise in his chest along with his heartbeat.

There was the day when you had made him promise to not let you leave the lab no matter what you said until you finished a new round of cross-referencing your updated personal data samples with the 500 something you had collected while getting your doctorate. But then it turned out that there was a music festival happening two blocks away from the lab, and how were you supposed to focus with the booming sounds of drums and the wafting aromas of roasted street fare, but Bucky wanted to mess with you a bit.

And so he stood between you and the door, trying his best to keep a straight face.

“You said, and I quote ‘Bucky do not let me leave this lab, no matter how much I beg, or plead, or––“

You waved your hands.

“That was old Y/N who was bright-eyed and full of caffeine and optimism. This is 7 p.m. current Y/N realizing that I will literally be here until 3 a.m., which I’ve already done twice this week. Current Y/N Y/N just needs to dance and eat some mandazi.”

“A promise is a promise! What if this was the very night when you were destined to be struck by genius with a breakthrough that changes the course of humanity, but I prevented that from happening by breaking my word.” Bucky shrugged, the corner of his mouth turning up. “Not chancing it.”

You sighed in feigned resignation.

“You’re right, you’re right.”

Bucky was thrown off for half a second but your concession, but then you were sprinting past him as best as you could sprint past a genetically enhanced soldier, your cackle turning into profanities choked by laughter as Bucky easily caught you, arms wrapping around your waist.

“Goddammit, Bucky!”

He was barely even holding you, so nervous about hurting you, but it was still enough to keep you locked in place as you struggled, both of you chuckling for a few more seconds before you gave up, going limp in his arms. He could feel the rise and fall of your chest, was close enough to breathe in the bright scent of your perfume.

“Guess I’ll die here.”

Your light tone then turned bitter on a dime, taking Bucky by surprise.

“I lied, I really don’t deserve to get out of here tonight, not when my dumbass has been stuck on the same problem for weeks, and everyone else in that lab has actually been able to do their fucking jobs.”

“Hey, Y/N, that’s not true.” Bucky broke his hold on you, turning you around to face him, watching as you shook your head, chewing at the corner of your lip as you averted your eyes.

“You’re one of the smartest people I know. And I see you, everyone sees you working your ass off in there. Give yourself a break.” He paused for a second before placing his hands on your shoulders, the action prompting you to bring your pained gaze back to meet his.

“You know I’m not actually holding you hostage, right?”

You had mustered a snort of laughter and nodded but still had that defeated look across your face, and Bucky’s instinct to care for you overshadowed his nerves. 

“C’mere.”

And he pulled you toward him and you immediately settled into his embrace, letting out a deep exhale as you burrowed your head in his chest, arms winding around his waist. And as much as he wanted to, he didn’t dare try to kiss you in the midst of your mini crisis, not knowing if you’d misinterpret it as only being given to try to make you feel better as opposed to showing you how deeply he felt about you.

“Thank you.” Your voice was muffled against him and you pulled back, sniffling but smiling. “Sorry I lost my cool there.”

“You don’t need to apologize. Come on, let’s get you some fresh air and some mandazi, you’ll feel better.”

“Good plan.” You both started walking down the hall, and Bucky could feel your stare burning through him, turning and seeing you giving him that look again.

“What?”

“Nothing … just glad I met you.”

Even with that seemingly picture perfect moment, gnawing fear kept him from showing you right then and there how he really felt, settling instead on words that felt safer instead.

“Feeling’s mutual.”

He’s recalling all of these moments in his head, especially how he’s kicked himself after each one for not making a move. What was wrong with him? How long was he going to let fear dictate his life? The life he had fought for, the one he was still clawing his way out of the past for?

He’s jolted out of his reverie by the rumble of an engine in the distance, and his head snaps up to see trees rustling in the distance.

Even the sheep look startled.

“What the hell?”

And then he sees you come barreling out of the tree line in what looks like a military-grade hummer, except in a rich violet color, wearing sunglasses and a grin, the car’s speakers blaring that one Black Keys (Black Locks? He can never keep all the music you tell him straight) song he’s heard a few times in your lab, and he doesn’t know if he believes in a god, but damn, of all songs to be playing, it’s one hell of a cosmic coincidence that it’s this one.

“Woah, oh oh, I’ve got a love that keeps me hanging. 

I’m a lonely boy, I’m a lonely boy.”

“Son of a bitch.”

Bucky’s heart was beating fast, mind working overtime in a last-ditch attempt to dissuade him from stopping the chess match between you two and taking the chance he wanted to since practically the day you met. He’d been controlled for so long, shoved around with no agency, no say in what he could do.

But this, right here, right now, this was his life. And he didn’t want to waste more of it waiting, waste more of it hanging because of his own hesitation. He had the ability to make choices today, even when it seemed terrifying and vulnerable and could potentially end in disaster. Or, it could end in something fucking great. Something that made him feel happy, feel understood, feel alive.

Isn’t that all he really wanted?

And as you pull up near his hut, he makes a barely noticeable nod to himself. He’s made his decision. Today, instead of choosing fear, he was going to choose you.


End file.
